Rafe carried Bitsy out, and my hands clenched in fists. My hormones screamed foul. If this was a football game and I was the referee, I would have thrown a yellow flag on the ground and stomped on it.
Darn it.
I couldn’t have it both ways. Either I was attracted to the man or I thought he was a murderer. If I didn’t make up my mind, I would go crazy.
I wanted my life to have zing in it again. Even if I tabled the suspicion stuff, there was still the matter of his flirting with other women.
Was he even a good catch? He always seemed to have a woman in his arms. Didn’t the man have any self-control?
Chapter 13
I limped to my front door and unlocked it. My plan was to stand there like the grand lady of the manor while Rafe did his Masters of the Universe impression and carried Bitsy to her room, but one look at the utter destruction in my living room and I felt like I’d been sucker punched.
Spots swam before my eyes. Not now. I didn’t need to feel lightheaded now. I clutched the hutch with both hands until my vision cleared. I willed air back in my lungs and glanced fearfully around my house.
Lamps were on the floor. Pillows were shredded. Grandmother’s wingback chair upended. Magazines strewn across the floor. Mama’s special cobalt-blue vase smashed, the bright yellow daffodils mangled.
My knees trembled from the exertion of standing here and not collapsing into a puddle on the floor. I felt violated. And scared. Was there a burglar in the house? I heard a crunching of paper and rustling of fine fabrics. Adrenaline surged and I tensed to flee.
First one drooling dog head appeared over the back of the sofa and then the other.
No burglars. Hellion dogs.
The grinning dogs eased off the splattered sofa and padded over to greet me. As if I’d let them live after they’d trashed my house. I yelled at them, but no sound came past my lips.
If my kids had done something like this, I would not have any trouble screaming my head off. I’d make the kids clean up the mess and I’d yell some more. Maybe even stomp around a bit. All that irate body language would be lost on these sexually replete dogs.
I sank down on the wooden bench in the foyer. This bench was usually a last stop on the way out of the house, a place where I put things I didn’t want to forget to take with me. I’d never once used the bench as a way station to get into the house.
I just couldn’t go any farther. I reminded myself this dog situation was temporary. Bitsy would take the hellion dogs and go home tomorrow. Then I’d have my life and my house back.
Rafe carried Bitsy in. I heard Artie’s sharp intake of breath. Catching his eye, I shook my head in warning. I didn’t want Bitsy to know. She had enough on her mind right now with the funeral and her pregnancy.
Luck wasn’t with me. Bitsy’s eyes were fully operational. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “Put me down. Right this minute.”
I staggered to my feet and issued a terse command to Rafe. “Take her upstairs. I’ll clean this up.” If there was any mercy in this world, he would listen to me and get Bitsy upstairs.
“You’ll do no such thing, Cleopatra Jones. This mess will take you all night to clean up.” Bitsy squirmed out of Rafe’s arms like a cat stuck in a large pickle jar and landed on her feet. “Damn these dogs. This is all Dudley’s fault. If he hadn’t insisted on the biggest dogs in the world, we wouldn’t be living with such giant berserkers.”
I hitched an arm around Bitsy’s shoulders. “You have enough to worry about right now. I’ll deal with this. Maybe you should think about some sort of dog-proof interior gates when you get them both home.”
“What?” Bitsy stared up at me, white-faced.
I prayed she didn’t throw up in here, although it wouldn’t make that much difference. What was one more pile of goo in the aftermath of a dog orgy?
I pushed that thought from my mind. “Gates. You know, like when the kids were little and we wanted them to stay out of the living room so we’d have at least one room in the house that wasn’t littered with toys.”
Bitsy ignored my comment about gates. “I’m not taking either dog home. I hoped to leave Mo here with you.”
My heart stopped. I heard a rushing of wind and saw a very bright light. The carnage of my living room swirled through my head. I couldn’t face this level of disaster on a routine basis. “I thought you knew I was dog-sitting Madonna until you took her home with you.”
“My mother hates dogs,” Bitsy said. “If I even take Mo back with me, she’s going to have a fit.”
Mothers are supposed to drive us crazy. That’s their permanent job description. It amazed me that Bitsy hadn’t grasped that elementary concept. “Move out.”
Bitsy cast another quick glance at Artie. “I’ve been thinking about that.”
With the baby on the way, she would need more space, a place where both dogs could run and be happy. And with her insurance windfall she could afford to live anywhere.
Surely if Bitsy had time to think things over, she’d keep the dogs. I’d just have to let Bitsy get accustomed to the idea. “You need your own space.”
Bitsy swayed against me. Tears pooled in her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t handle the dogs, not with everything else.”
I felt like crying myself. Bitsy wasn’t the only one facing major life changes. Damn Charlie for sticking me with Dudley’s dog. Damn Dudley for dying and leaving behind a huge mess.
There definitely wasn’t room in my bed for two of these huge dogs. Mozart would have to find another home. That was all there was to it. “We’ll think of something.”
When Bitsy had started crying, Rafe and Artie herded the dogs outside. Their return spurred me into action. I leaned over and picked up a broken lamp off the floor. Aunt Ida’s lamp. Wet spots that I earnestly hoped were doggie drool dotted my sofa.
Bits and pieces of something unidentifiable lay among the wreckage. I hoped it wasn’t something one of the girls had treasured. They’d bitch and moan for years.
It wasn’t until I found a larger piece that I recognized what it had been. “My slippers! They ate my slippers. That’s it. I’m taking both dogs to the pound right now.”
Bitsy slumped into Grandmother’s chair, relieved that a decision had been made. All I needed were my purse and my car keys and both dogs were history.
Rafe caught my arm as I tried to stomp out of the room on one foot. “What?” I shouted in his face.
His wonderfully sculpted lips quirked. “You do fireworks real nice, hon. But it’s Saturday afternoon. The pound is closed. Why not keep the dogs separated tonight and regroup in the morning?”
I wasn’t ready to be placated, especially not by someone that might be a murderer. And I damned sure couldn’t handle the sexual tension thing that happened every time this man touched me. I tried to put on a pleasant face but from the way Rafe leaped back, the Antichrist look was back. “Go away.”
He caught my head in his hand, tipping my chin up until I met his gaze. “Cleo, don’t be angry with me. I want to help.”
Banked embers smoldered behind his expression and a heat wave swept through my body again. How could someone show such concern for another person’s welfare and be a murderer? I was so confused. My brain wanted to trust this man. My hormones already did.
“Why don’t I take Mozart home with me for the night?” Rafe asked. “I’ll bring him back tomorrow when things are calmer.”
Getting Mozart out of the house would be a big help. Stepping away from Rafe, I glanced over at Bitsy for approval. She nodded her agreement. “Do you need to check with the boys?” I asked.
“Not for this. But I should talk to them soon. About a lot of things.”
No kidding. The issue of what to do with the dogs would be the perfect lead into the topic of the baby. “They should know, Bitsy. The sooner, the better.”
Rafe and Artie packed up Mozart’s dish and dog food for his sleepover. Rafe slipped his arms through the handles of the book bag
holding all the dog gear. Mozart pranced at the end of his leash. “I’ll bring Mozart back tomorrow,” Rafe said. “That should give you ladies plenty of time to figure out what to do.”
Now that he was standing across the room from me, my brain finally started working again. He’d driven my car here from church. How would he get back there? “Do you want my keys?” I offered, thinking I wasn’t going anywhere until he brought the dog back.
“No thanks.” He shook his head in denial. “Mo and I are up for a long walk.”
Rafe was leaving. He had been a big help. Was I just going to stand here like a bump on a log? I should thank him. “Wait.” Operating on instinct, I limped across the room to kiss him on the cheek.
Only, he tricked me by turning his head and catching my kiss full on the lips. The piece of gummed up slipper sole I’d been holding dropped out of my hands. His lips touched me hesitantly at first, as if asking for permission.
A whisper soft sigh escaped my mouth. My brain tried to reason with my hormones without success. This elation I was feeling wasn’t supposed to be happening.
My body responded to him as if it had all the answers it needed. My hands fisted in his shirt and I instinctively nestled into his heat. If the house had been on fire, I’d have burned to a crisp because all I could think about was kissing Rafe. Hunger seared my every thought as I yielded to him.
His hand stroked the back of my neck and all I could think of was how much I wanted this. I’d been dreaming of this kiss for days. Maybe years.
I heard a soft cooing sound and was horrified to realize that it welled up out of my throat. Rafe pulled away. All my senses screamed, “Don’t stop,” but it was too late. I’d awakened us from the sensual spell.
His hand moved from my neck to my face and he caressed my cheek with his thumb, all the while smiling at me with those big brown lady-killer eyes of his. I struggled to pull air in my lungs.
I wanted to say something profound, but I was speechless. After a moment, I found my voice. “Damn.”
His wonderful smile reached all the way to his twinkling eyes. “I don’t often get that response. What does it mean?”
I took half a step back and breathed in air that wasn’t laden with male pheromones. My response had been the most honest I could give. Damn pretty much summed up how I felt.
As in damn he stopped, damn he kissed me, damn he was a great kisser, and damn what was I going to do if he was the murderer. “Damn pretty much says it all.”
Rafe’s warm chuckle resonated through every pore of my body. Masculine pride and delight gleamed in his eyes. The man was thrilled that I’d been reduced to swear words. I took another step back. It was either that or kiss the smug grin off his face, and I didn’t think either of us was ready for that. Especially not before an audience.
An audience?
Heat seared my cheeks as Rafe walked out the door with Mozart. I turned to see both Bitsy and Artie watching me with rapt fascination.
“Well.” This from Bitsy.
“It-it-it’s not what you think,” I offered in my best Elmer Fudd imitation, realizing my hair was tumbling down about my face and neck. Where was my hair clip? I scoured the floor until I found it.
“Does Charlie know about Rafe?” Bitsy asked.
Ruthlessly, I shoved my hair back into the clip. “Charlie doesn’t need to know. He’s married to another woman, remember?”
“Only because you divorced him,” Bitsy reminded me.
The door flew open and Grant, Charla, and Lexy blew in, with Mama close on their heels. Everyone talked at once and I couldn’t understand a blasted thing they were saying. In my hyperaware emotional state, I couldn’t take it. I screamed, which silenced everyone.
Mama clutched her heart and staggered to the dog drool sofa. At the last minute, she noticed that the sofa didn’t look right and changed course for the wooden rocker. “My heart. My heart,” she cried.
My own heart raced. How could I have forgotten for a moment that Mama had a delicate constitution? “I’m sorry, Mama. I shouldn’t have startled you like that. Are you all right?”
Mama gripped the arms of the rocker and heaved in a shuddering breath. “What in the blazes is wrong with you people? First you ruin a perfectly good funeral by walking out early, then you scream at a woman with a heart condition. What’s this world coming to?”
Mama looked suspiciously okay to me. Her color was good. Her mind was sharp. And all of her limbs seemed to be working fine, judging by the rapid pace at which she was rocking.
I exhaled slowly. Okay. I hadn’t jeopardized Mama’s health. Time to figure out what else was wrong. “What made all of you come in here talking a mile a minute?”
“Some man stole my dog,” Grant shouted in my ear.
“Oh, that.” I waved off his comment. “We can explain.” I glanced at Bitsy, who’d decided to sit on the doggie drool sofa.
“I sent the dog home with Cleo’s boyfriend,” Bitsy said. “The dogs tore things up here while we were at the funeral and I couldn’t deal with Mozart’s antics along with everything else today.”
“What?” Grant said, his face a junior version of male befuddlement.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Grant,” Artie said. “Think about it. Mozart humped Madonna the whole time we were gone.”
“Oh,” Grant said, the chaos of the room finally registering. “Is Mo coming back? Mo is going home with us tomorrow, right?”
“We need to talk about some changes now that your father is gone,” Bitsy said.
We exchanged a look and I knew that she was ready to have that talk with her sons. I shepherded Mama and my girls into the kitchen. I prayed Bitsy would tell her boys everything.
Charla stomped into the kitchen in front of me, stopping next to the butcher-block array of knives. Molten amber shot out of her eyes.
“Since when is the golf pro your boyfriend?” Charla demanded. In the next breath, she asked, “Does Daddy know?”
Chapter 14
I’d changed my clothes three times before I found the perfect outfit for my two o’clock golf lesson. With my thick ponytail fed through the back opening of my Callaway cap and my conservative navy shorts and off-white golf Polo, I looked every bit as professional as a scratch golfer.
No way did I look seductive or flirty like Jonette did in her two piece hot pink ensemble with matching pink anklets. My shortie socks were white, and came up just high enough to cover the precautionary tape on my mostly mended ankle. This upcoming golf lesson could be considered my first date with Rafe, and I didn’t want anything to mess it up.
I could control how I looked but not how I thought. I couldn’t get the questions out of my mind that I’d fielded about my ex. I didn’t care if Charlie knew about Rafe. Charlie gave up his right to have any say in my behavior long ago. So what if I’d kissed Rafe? He wasn’t really my boyfriend.
Which wasn’t to say I hadn’t been thinking about dating him. Ever since that magical kiss, I had been thinking of what it would be like to be with Rafe. To find out if we had anything in common besides a case of mutual attraction.
Who was I kidding? I wanted to kiss him again in the worst way, but I didn’t have any experience with men other than Charlie. I needed to take this slow so that I didn’t get in too fast or too deep.
Caution had me put a room full of furniture between us yesterday morning when Rafe brought Bitsy’s dog back. I had hoped distance would minimize the magnetic pull he exerted, but increasing our linear distance didn’t do a bit of good.
My entire body seemed aware of each breath Rafe took. I might as well have stood next to him for all the good distance did me. I could no more escape this magnetic attraction between us than the moon could suddenly veer out of the earth’s orbit.
Before he left, Rafe sent me a searing glance, a veritable laser beam of desire that revved up my insides. I stood there in my kitchen and warred with my impulse to drag him upstairs and have my way with him. I congratulated myself on
my self-control as he left unmolested.
I wasn’t disappointed that he didn’t kiss me again. No, siree, I was taking it slow. That’s the way the new Cleo operated.
Before my lesson, Jonette and I played our interrupted round of golf from last week. I whacked my drive off the number six tee. Jonette’s tee shot already lay in the center of the lush green fairway. I felt strong today, charged with energy and anticipation.
My ball trickled to a stop a few yards short of hers. I smiled in triumph. Things were going my way for a change. “What did you do over the weekend?” I climbed into the cart and Jonette drove us down the paved cart path.
“Nothing much. Went to the funeral. Worked. Dodged Britt Radcliff. Thought about Violet Cooper.”
Dang. In the flurry of getting Bitsy, her boys, and Mozart off and dressing for my lesson I forgot about interviewing Violet Cooper today. No problem. The new Cleo was flexible. “I’m headed over to see Violet after my lesson. You wanna come?”
“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away,” Jonette said. “When are you going to tell me about kissing Rafe?”
My mouth dropped open. “How did you know?”
“Your Mama called me,” Jonette said with a toss of her head. “Spill it, Clee. Was it as good as you thought?”
“Mama knows?”
Jonette grinned. “You kissed the man in front of two witnesses. Did you expect them to keep the big kiss a secret?”
Of course. My audience. No wonder so many people had populated my kitchen when Artie announced that Rafe had returned the dog.
I whacked my ball again. It landed in the rough bordering the fairway. Jonette hit her second shot and it landed short of my ball, but still in the freshly mowed grass of the fairway.
How could I distract Jonette from the big kiss? I thought of remaining mute the rest of my life, but I had too many things to say, too much unwanted advice to pass onto my children. When we got up to the green to putt, I couldn’t help gazing over the hill down at the crime scene. “What was he doing out here, Jonette?”
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